Note the
transparency
in the overlapping softness
in your voice, in the choice that
buried us in the nighttime’s
gleam, beneath the moon,
beneath the mystery
surrounding your eyes.
In your strangulation
upon these shared breaths,
you left,
parting with the night,
seeing no moments that matter
within sight.
A leader’s tragic
walk, towards a cliff
to spill the contents of
a heart, caught from above.
He thought to be blind,
in undying love.
He thought,
with all the material to move
straight, with the wind
that would lead
his soul, to a place
he’d not ever need to retrace.
One final word
with all the transparency
from the thin paper of his veins.
One lost seed
from the rays of hope,
he had not seen,
tangled in the ropes of pain.
Undone, in the promise.
Unfulfilled, in the wish.
Modern Romanticism 